


For every Tomorrow there exists Today (so live)

by nautical_2



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Getting Together, I put that for everything tho so, M/M, i guess, i think, stop me from tagging 2k16
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 07:47:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8836294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nautical_2/pseuds/nautical_2
Summary: A study of Iwaizumi Hajime over the years, not in chronological order





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically an exercise in second person so don't expect much. haha.  
> it's also an exercise in writing things out of order cause I hate everything 
> 
> someone stop me I have too much free time on my hands  
> jk im neglecting HW for this oh dear.

You don’t quite know how it ended up like this. It wasn’t ever supposed to be this way. But somewhere along the way something went wrong, and your world became a muddled mess of confusion and anger. 

“So then.” Tooru’s grin is fake as they come, and his eyes show nothing but the fear of not being good enough. They are a sharp color, the color of knives and chocolate, and the darkness of a thousand black holes. “Am I to assume that even the great Iwa-chan is incapable of hitting spikes set by the King of the Court?” 

You grit your teeth, and despite your best efforts, it is only morning practice and he is already getting on your nerves. 

(The sun is so very bright outside the windows of the gym, and you can see crows fly by in the light. It makes you sick to your stomach). 

He grins even wider, and for a moment you worry that his face is going to split almost entirely in two. Then you remember that you technically aren’t allowed to care about him anymore. 

To be fair, though, the context is different. You don’t think he’ll care either way, though, as stuck as he is inside his own mind. 

“I’m not perfect, Shittykawa.” And the words fall out of your mouth, the same way they always do, the same way they must. It is nothing like before, yes, but you can make it close. You have to. 

“I do so love it when you say that.” Tooru’s grin becomes less of a grin and more of a genuine smile and- that is uncalled for. For him to be allowed to say things like that while you are sitting here suffering makes you all the more angry. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad if his face split in half. 

He must notice the anger on your face because his smile does and he gets strangely serious. 

“Oh, you silly little Iwa-chan.” Instead of patronizing, however, his tone is soft and sad. He seems almost dreamlike, and you’re absolutely positive you’re imagining things when he begins to fade into the beige wall behind him. “When will you stop living in the past?”

It is a sudden question, and you do not know how to answer. You want to tell him that you don’t understand, that the past is something you value close to your heart even if he doesn’t, that the things you believe in haven’t changed since the day it all ended. You want to tell him that things aren’t that different, not really, because he is here in front of you and not half-way across the country. 

Instead, you wake up. 

\---

And wake up. 

\---

And wake up. 

\---

It doesn’t make sense. The days repeat themselves, and you think it’s like those stories where one single day repeats until a mistake is fixed, but it isn’t. It is weeks and months of repetitive days that pass so quickly you don’t even realize they’re going. You lose yourself in time, watch it speed up so much faster than you and slow down for you to catch up. It’s almost a game, of how close to the edge you can get before you’re dragged back into the center. 

Your parents call you. They are worried. Issei and Takahiro visit you. They are worried. 

But he never does. He never is. 

So you drown. 

\---

“Oh, Iwa-chan.” His voice is soft and sweet, brown hair flitting into his eyes with the passing wind. It is a scene from a story, one that you’ll hold close to your heart for the rest of your life. 

“What.” You don’t mean to be gruff, really, you don’t. It’s just that you don’t know how to care, don’t know how to make the love in your heart transfer into words and actions. You’ve always been bad at things like this. 

He understands, though. Or at least, you hope he does. 

“What are you thinking about?” Tooru asks, brushing your nose with his. It is a revoltingly romantic gesture, and for a moment, you worry about being seen. 

But the park is fairly abandoned, and the teenage girl walking her dog really doesn’t care, so you brush your lips against his nose and whisper _nothing_ against his cheek. It is soft, like silk and satin. 

The grass underneath you is spiky, but the blanket helps cover it up. The sun above your head is too bright, but the tree you’re under helps cover it up. It is a battle of you versus nature, your love versus the world around, and you like to pretend that you’re winning. Although, with Tooru by your side, you’d be winning no matter what. 

Isn’t that a disgusting thought. 

“I beg to differ.” He laughs a small laugh, a laugh that you hold dear to your heart, much like everything else he does. 

“It’s nothing.” You answer, poking him in the stomach. His tummy clenches beneath your finger, and you give him a split second warning before you begin tickling him relentlessly. He’s awfully ticklish, and it’s funner than it should be to take advantage of this weakness. 

“Stop, stop!” He gasps with a huge smile, and you can’t help but smile with him. He looks almost childlike in the bright light, and you would feel like a pervert, only the light makee you feel young as well, and it is almost as though you have been transported back years in time to when your friendship was young and carefree. 

“I was just thinking about how much I love you.” The blush that appears on Tooru’s face is totally worth the anxiety you feel tumbling in your belly. They’re not butterflies, for butterflies don’t have wings of steel and hearts the size of horses. 

“I love you too, Iwa-chan.” He replies, but it’s not the reply you care about. It’s the face he makes, when his eyes get small and his mouth gets wider and you can see the anger and disillusionment leaving him bit by bit until you are both young once more. 

\---

It’s not the end of all things, but it comes pretty damn close. 

You don’t think you’ll survive graduation. It’s a long and tedious affair, and the difference in names means that he is across the gymnasium. You know this gymnasium well, though, because it’s where you have spent the last three years of your life. You see the skid marks in the ground where Kindaichi slid too far and the dent Kyoutani made when he jumped too high. The team won’t be the same without the third years, you all know that, but you hope they will carry on the legacy of Aoba Josai for as long as they can. 

Saying goodbye was probably the hardest part. His words echo constantly in your head, a never ending reminder that all things, whether good or bad, come to an end. 

_Thank you for these three years._

So when it ends, you do not cry. You stand in line with the people you have spent the last three years learning and loving and you do not cry. It’s hard, you think, one of the hardest things you will ever do, but you need to be strong when no one else is. It’s what you’ve always been, too, the rock that everyone can rest on. 

(But you couldn’t finish it, couldn’t support that end, couldn’t and couldn’t and couldn’t.)

Tooru cries, big ugly drops that travel down his face and into the sleeve he presses against it. You want to reach out, to touch him, but he shrugs your arm off his shoulder and it’s not a physical blow but it sure feels like one. 

Issei and Takahiro cry too. Takahiro hides his face in Issei’s shirt, but it does nothing to mask the fact that both of them are shaking with uncontrollable sobs. It’s terrible and awful and the despair on Yahaba’s face as he watches the four of you makes it hurt all the more. 

“You’ll be fine without us.” Tooru is insistent on saying one last goodbye speech before you leave forever, and you wonder if this is really worth the pain that is sure to come. But you gather in the gym with the rest of them as it clears out, and it physically pains you to see all the team members that came to see you off. 

Kyoutani’s face is dark and impassive, while Kunimi looks interested in the subject for once. Watari is massaging Kindaichi’s back as he shudders out sobs. You wish you could comfort them, tell them that everything’s going to be okay, but your throat feels like fire and your eyes are burning, so you stay silent and let those who want to talk talk.

You stare at the wall behind them. You don’t want to be part of this. The loss that you hear in Tooru’s tone eats away at your heart with every second, and you feel little shards of glass chipping off your harsh exterior. 

_Thank you for these three years._

“I look forward to seeing you grow.” God, does Tooru ever shut up? Normally, you appreciate his ability to talk for hours. But right now, all you want to do is go home and take a nap and maybe forget about all of this and wake up young again. 

(What does it mean to be young?)

His speech is long and tedious, and you tune most of it out. You don’t want to hear this, don’t want to be reminded that everything you care about has come to an end and that, at the end of the day, this was never meant to last. 

So instead, you watch his face. You watch how the words that Tooru speaks into being create twists and turns in his normally handsome face, and how his eyes are red and puffy and way too shaky. You want to kiss him, to touch his shoulder in support and hug him, do anything to make this feeling a little less heart wrenching. But he braves through it, and so do you, standing by his side like the ever faithful protector you always have been. 

“Make sure to do us proud next year.” He sniffles one more time, and this time you ignore all sense and don’t let him shrug you off his shoulder. “I can’t wait to watch the season to come.” 

He lets you fold him into a hug now, and you’re not allowed to kiss his hair, but friends can hug, and it’s good, but it’s not nearly enough. Yahaba stares with something akin to sympathy, and for a moment you fear that he knows something you don’t, but you stand with Tooru in your arms and watch the entirety of your third year exit through the gymnasium doors. 

_Thank you for these three years._

\---

Somedays, you don’t want to wake up. 

Others, you refuse to drown. 

It’s funny, how things change with every passing day. 

\---

It’s surprising when Kageyama comes to visit you. 

He visits from Miyagi, all the way back home, and you don’t ask about how the team is doing. 

He’s a third year now, and it’s his last year to shine. He shone brightly last year, though, when you watched Karasuno last year on the T.V. in the dorms and watched them utterly destroy Shiratorizawa. You saw the way Kageyama hugged his captain in gratitude, how the clever glasses boy who never smiles buried his head into his freckled friend’s arms and how the small #10 jumped onto their libero’s back in glee. 

He’s matured. He’s grown up. Kageyama looks nothing like the boy you fought in junior high and it takes everything in you to not ask how To- Oikawa is. 

(He’s not Tooru anymore. You lost that right, you don’t get to call him that.)

“How’s university, Iwaizumi-san?” Ever so polite, Kageyama takes a sip from his coffee. It’s bitterly cold outside, but there’s no wind, so the dead leaves stay dry in their spot on the pavement. Your breath makes little puffs of smoke when you breathe out, and the tea in your hands burns nicely. 

“It’s school.” You shake your head a bit and sigh. “That’s all you can ever expect, I suppose.” It’s hard and tiring, but it is school. And you both know how that goes. 

It’s cordial, what’s between the two of you. It’s nice and kind and not what you need at all. 

Kageyama nods a bit, and leans back in his chair. The shop is packed, and you see a group of highschool girls laughing in their school uniform as they line up outside the building. It’s a popular shop between the college and the all girls school, but the crowd of people means you’re stuck sitting out in the cold. 

“How’s your team?” It’s not what you want to ask, not at all, but you don’t have the righ-

“They’re good. We’re good.” He laughs a bit and shuffles his arms, and he really is nothing like he was back at Kitagawa Daiichi. He’s not unsure, not anymore, not like he was. Kageyama wears his black jacket like a banner of pride, and you wonder if you even brought yours back to the dorm from the last time you visited home. 

“That’s good.” You reply, and it’s awkward. You don’t know why he’s here, why he traveled all this way for a poor little college student with too much time on his hands. 

“I- “

“What happened between you and Tooru?” He interrupts, and despite all efforts, you flinch. It’s not subtle, not the slightest, but to your eternal thanks, he does not respond. 

(He calls him Tooru, the one he hated most this whole time gets to call him Tooru and you can’t even call him this isn’t fair this isn’t fair this isn’t- )

“Nothing happened.” His doubtful looks prompts you into clarifying. “Nothing important happened. We just grew apart.” 

As most friends do. 

Kageyama doesn’t seem convinced, but that’s none of your business. Really. It isn’t. 

But he’s seen Oikawa. He’s been near him and talked to him and that must mean he knows things about him. That means he’s been in contact. 

Maybe that means he’s okay. 

(You know, you know so well how he likes to overwork himself. How he lets himself damage his knee and does reckless things and risks his safety for no reason). 

“How is he?” The words are choked past your throat, and you really don’t want to ask, but you have to. 

“He’s…” Kageyama pauses, as though he doesn’t know how to proceed. “Good. He’s good.” 

You smile, and it doesn’t feel like you’re dying anymore, gasping for air and drowning in your the ocean of your mind. (He’s good, he’s good.) It echoes and rumbles like thunder and you wish you could see his face again. Just one more time.

“Are you okay, Iwaizumi-san?” 

You want to say no, you really do. The truth sets you free, right? You want to tell Kageyama about how it’s still hard to sleep at night and how sometimes when you miss him too much it physically hurts you. You want to tell him about how your new setter can’t compare and how your new team can’t compare to what you had. 

“Yes, I’m perfectly alright.” You say, and you both ignore the wetness in your eyes as you chug the rest of your tea. 

\---

The first time Tooru fucks up his knee you think he’s dying. 

The two of you are first years, and in an effort to prove yourselves to the upperclassmen, have stayed behind in the gym every day. By this time of night, though, your palms have grown rough and reddened, and they sting at the mere thought of touching the ball again. 

“Again, Iwa-chan.” Tooru commands, and you can’t help but follow as he says. You don’t know what to do with this power he has over you, especially with the way he says your name. One word and you think you’d level the entire world for him. 

The slap of the volleyball against your hand stings more than you thought it would. You can see the bruise and the markings, carefully etched into your skin like someone took the time to carve it. But Tooru’s eyes are alight with fire, and he looks more alive than he had in the past week, so you let him be. 

“Serve. I’ll receive.” You grunt, tossing him the ball. It’s a relief to get it out of your hands, and you don’t know how to tell him that your hands are on fire and your legs hurt from jumping, so you cross under the net to the other side of the court and say nothing at all. 

You see it happen before it actually does. Tooru jumps in the air, a huge jump of power and strength, and you know something isn’t right, but it’s only when you see him fall in a heap do you hear the crack that echoes around the empty gym. 

Running to him, despite the pain in your legs, takes very little thought at all. 

He’s in pain.

He’s hurting. 

(What have you done?)

“Oi, Oikawa.” He doesn’t respond. “Oikawa!” You shake his shoulder until he turns to look you in the eye. He’s crying, and he’s always been an ugly crier but his knee is twisted oddly and it’s inhuman the way his shoulders shake and his voice cracks. 

“I’m fine.” He says, but he’s not. Maybe he’s trying to convince himself. (You don’t know). 

“You’re not.” Simple facts are the only thing getting you through this, and you can feel your mind slowly leave your body and form a separate entity with a separate goal. 

It’s his knee, and that means many tendons and ligaments and very few bones. It means connections and articulations and everything you learned flying out the window. 

Help Tooru. Save him. Get him to a hospital. 

(Love him.)

“I’m getting the nurse.” You stand up, and your legs scream in pain, but you don’t care. 

“Not open.” Tooru has gone back to staring at the floor, and you have never felt this lost before in your life. His tears of pain puddle beneath his face, and you can tell that he is trying his hardest to stop crying. You are so close and yet so far, so very close to saving him but he is still in pain. It’s written across his face, down his flexed arms and into his twisted leg. 

“Then you’re going to a hospital.” You don’t ask, because if you ask you’re afraid he’s going to say no. So you call his sister. 

Only when they take Tooru into the emergency room do you let yourself breathe. He’s going to be okay. The doctors are going to save his leg and save his knee.  

“He’ll be fine, you know that right? It’s probably just dislocated or something.” Tooru’s sister is harsh but honest, and you can’t help but appreciate her for that. She looks a bit like him, with the caramel colored hair and the lean figure, but Tooru is delicate. He’s fragile. 

His sister is nothing but strength and determination, and it was all pushed into a fierce kid with too much energy. Takeru is, after all, all the fierce bits of the Oikawa family. 

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” You reply, and only now do you realize why you’re so stressed. You know they can save his leg. You know that this incident, whether it be dislocation or a torn ligament will not stop Tooru from walking or living. 

But you’re absolutely terrified that it will stop him from playing. 

You couldn’t care less about volleyball. You joined in junior high with Tooru because he wanted to, and you stayed with it because he needed someone to trust and you were there. Together, you are fearless, and apart…

Well. 

You hope there never comes a time when you are apart. 

But Tooru loves volleyball. It’s his entire life, ever since their childhood days where they would pass it back and forth for fun. Volleyball is more than a game to him, more than a club. 

It’s his entire life, and losing it would kill him. 

“He’ll be okay.” Oikawa’s sister is resolute, and she stays with you in the dreary waiting room, so you take comfort in her stability and wait together for your idiot of a best friend to fix himself and come home with you. 

\---

Meeting Matsukawa and Hanamaki is one of the strangers experiences you have ever experienced in your life. 

They’re friends, but they’re not. Hanamaki just moved from Tokyo, and met Matsukawa on the train as he came back from visiting his older brother. They became friends, realized that they were headed for the same school, and both ended up joining the volleyball team. 

So they’re friends. But not. 

It’s the first volleyball team meeting after tryouts, and you can’t help but feel a bit nervous. Tooru is a bouncing ball of nerves next to you, but you feel so out of place. This is a good school for good players, and you can’t help but feel as though the only reason why you’re here is because you’re riding on the coattails of your best friend. 

“Nervous too, are you?” The boy next to you asks. His hair is oddly pink, and his mouth seems upturned in a constant half-smile. You’re lined up by position so he’s a wing spiker, and when you shake his hand you can tell that he is somewhat strong. Not as strong as you, perhaps, but only time will tell. 

And arm wrestling competitions, of course. 

“I hope it isn’t that obvious.” You laugh, and the stranger smiles at you. It is a kind smile, from a kind person, and you are hit with the sudden realization that just because you are here for Tooru doesn’t mean you can’t have your own friends. 

“Iwaizumi.” You say. 

He smiles. “Hanamaki.” 

It is the start of a friendship. 

And you meet Matsukawa, too, while Tooru gets to know Hanamaki. Matsukawa has the biggest eyebrows you’ve ever seen on a person (although you find out later that there is a first year at Shiratorizawa who could rival him) and the worst puns you have ever heard in your life. He says them with no regard for humor and it is relieving to watch Tooru laugh at all the obscure memes Matsukawa knows. 

You don’t quite know how to act around these new people. You met them first, yes, but you know they like Tooru better (everyone does.) You aren’t jealous, not the least, but it is odd to have an equal friendship with someone who isn’t someone you’ve known for almost your entire life. 

“Come with us somewhere after practice.” Hanamaki calls to you as the third years split the first years into groups, and you nod your agreement before getting swept away into practice. 

You end up going to the shop down the street from the school. It isn’t the first time you’ve been allowed out on your own, for Miyagi is a safe place, but it is obvious that it is at least Hanamaki’s first time out. He stares at everything with almost childish wonder, and both Tooru and Matsukawa get caught in his enthusiasm. 

It is an outing for friends. For happiness and life and school. 

So why are you so jealous?

(He’s so happy, his eyes are wide and he hasn’t stopped smiling and he laughs and laughs and laughs so why are you so unsatisfied?)

“You guys work well together.” Matsukawa says, hands shoved into his pockets. He is the epitome of relaxed yet cool, and you can’t help but admire him a little bit. 

“Of course.” Tooru brags, swinging his arms wildly. “Together, we’re unyielding.” 

You roll your eyes, but when Matsukawa turns to you, you nod once. It’s true. It’s not just what your names mean (because that explains enough), but how it feels to spike a ball you know was set just for you. It’s the feeling of always having someone there beside you, of being able trust another human being without regrets or hesitation. 

It is freedom. It is strength. 

It’s absolutely lovely. 

\---

Sometimes, you know they want to question you. 

It’s the days where you show up to breakfast half-alive, where your eyes are dull and your mouth doesn’t seem to work properly and the food you eat tastes like nothing at all. 

They want to ask, you know that. What’s wrong, are you okay, is there anything they can do. 

But words are meaningless now. 

(You crave their support like a plant craves water. You thank them the days you can breathe, and beg for them to stay on the days you can’t. They laugh and say you have nothing to worry about.)

\---

When you first start university in Tokyo (Tokyo!), Yahaba is the first one to visit you. Maybe it’s because he’s panicking, but surely he would go to Tooru for that. He was captain after all, and the setter that Yahaba looked up to the most.

He’s not Tooru anymore, you tell yourself. He’s Oikawa and you’re Iwaizumi and you can never be anything more or anything less. 

(Sometimes, in your dreams, you can hear someone calling for Iwa-chan. It takes everything you have to ignore it and not respond.)

“How are you doing?” He visits you when you’re working, but it is a slow day and there aren’t many people in the bookstore. You think it’s luck that you got such a good job in your first year at university. Yahaba doesn’t seem surprised, though, and you suppose that’s a good thing. 

“As well as can be, I suppose.” It’s not bad, living all the way out here. There are a lot more people, yes, and you’ve gotten lost on campus more than once in the past week, true, but it isn’t bad at all. 

You are far from home, farther than you ever thought you could get, and it feels amazing. 

“And you?” You ask politely. “How goes the team?”

Yahaba snorts unprofessionally. “The new first years are a mess. Half of them are scared to death of us third years and the other half wants nothing more than to make life hell for us.” 

“So nothing’s changed, then.” You can’t help but jibe, and you both fall into a mess of giggles and laughter. It’s been a long time since you’ve laughed like this, but thinking about what happened makes you want to cry, so you bury the feeling and focus on the present. 

“Surely we weren’t that bad.” Yahaba looks close to outraged, and it makes you want to laugh some more. Their class wasn’t bad at all, if you ignore the fact that one of the members is almost literally a wild dog that can’t be trained by anyone. 

“And Kyoutani?” You figure that the wild dog is as good of a subject change as any. “How are things going with him?” 

When Yahaba blushes, you know his instinct was correct. Tooru (Oikawa) had always claimed that Yahaba and Kyoutani were destined for love, but all throughout high school you refused to believe him. 

Turns out he was right. 

“That good, huh?” It’s a rhetorical question, but it’s worth it when Yahaba turns an even deeper shade of red. You wonder how much money it would cost to buy tomatoes that color. Or paints. 

“I don’t believe that’s any of your business, Iwaizumi-san.” He manages to spit out through the embarrassment, and really, you should be ashamed of yourself, but it is his fault for being so open. It’s times like these when you feel grateful that Tooru refused to tell anyone about your relationship. He knew better than anyone knew how easily you are embarrassed, whether it be first or second hand embarrassment. 

“Have you told the team?” And it’s a genuine question, one that you actually want to know the answer to. You never got to tell anyone, and you want to see the difference it could make. 

“Only the ones that ask.” Yahaba says, calming down. He seems less mortified now that he’s seen that you have no intention of making fun of him. He still looks wary, though, so you drop your gaze like you would for a wild animal in an attempt to calm him down. 

“So everyone then.” You say, and Yahaba manages to crack a smile. It is light banter, really, conversation that’s not really a conversation. A conversation with no substance. 

“So why are you here.” You ask it like a statement, because knowing the answer to this innocent seeming question is really the opening to the path of regret. Maybe if Yahaba never tells you why he’s here you can pretend that he showed up because he misses you. 

“I was wondering if you’ve seen Oikawa-san lately.” And so much for that idea. It’s to be expected, though, that people would come to you to find him. It’s what they’ve always done, after all. 

“I’m afraid I haven’t seen him since graduation.” You reply, and it’s true. The last time you saw him, you were crying your eyes out in the middle of the gym. Of course, this much happened after the ceremony, but that’s no one’s business but yours and his. 

“Oh.” Yahaba’s face falls, and you can’t help but sympathize with him. Coming all this way in an attempt to find someone who doesn’t want to be found isn’t much of an adventure at all. He looks confused, though, like a child who has just been told that Santa isn’t real. You suppose that makes sense, considering the fact that you and Tooru were inseparable when he knew you. 

So much has changed since then, and it was only a few months ago. 

“Have you checked his university?” You ask. Yahaba nods morosely. 

“He doesn’t live on campus so they don’t know where he is, and it’s against the rules to give out his schedule.” He sounds like he’s put actual work into finding Tooru, and you feel bad that you can’t help more. 

“Plus, he isn’t responding to any of my messages, so-”

“What did you need help with?” When he gives you a wide eyed look of surprise, you elaborate. “Maybe I can help in some way.” 

He blushes a bit more, and then you think about how Tooru isn’t answering his phone. Tooru, who carries the thing around like a good luck charm, who is constantly taking pictures and texting people. 

Odd. 

“I just wanted to know how to balance school and volleyball captainship.” He says, and your jaw drops in surprise. Surely Tooru didn’t tell Yahaba of all people, when he wouldn’t tell his parents or anyone else in the team besides your fellow third years-

“‘Cause he had a girlfriend, right?” You close your mouth and Yahaba blushes more. “I just thought he could help.” 

Oh. 

“She broke up with him because he spent too much time on volleyball.” And me, you want to say. You want to scream it from the top of the building and from under the lights of a gym and everywhere to ignore the fact that your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest and your stomach feels like it’s returning everything you’ve given it in the past 24 hours. 

He had a girlfriend, right?

“Oh.” Yahaba looks down at the ground, and you regret being so harsh with him. But the words of apology won’t come out, and he stands to leave. 

“I’m sorry for not telling you.” He says suddenly, apologizing for something long ago, and you look at him in surprise. You didn’t think he would remember that, especially after so much time has passed. 

“About Oikawa-san, I mean.” He continues, mistaking your look for confusion. “About him going to a different university.” 

“It’s quite alright.” And it isn’t, not really, because nothing is really alright right now. You are far from home and you don’t really know anyone and nothing makes sense because your best friend is gone like he never existed. 

But you are silent, and he is sheepish, so you try and give him a comforting smile.

“I’m sorry for bothering you, Iwaizumi-san.” He bows slightly and turns to leave, and it’s your turn to apologize but the words refuse to come out. 

“If you pursue love.” You cough harshly, and wonder if you’re sick, if this is one of those quick colds that go away with hot soup and some sleep. Or if this is retribution for calling him Tooru in your mind still. 

“If you pursue love, there is always a way.” More than anything, you want him to be brave- for oh, how brave you were not. 

\---

You can’t help it, but every time you see those girls crowding around Tooru, you get increasingly and undeniably jealous. 

It isn’t right. He’s yours, and you’re his, and it should stay that way. These girls shouldn’t be allowed to get this close, they shouldn't be able to touch his shoulder and his arm and look at him with such adoring eyes. 

He’s yours, he’s yours, he can never be anything but. 

Which is why it stings like betrayal when you find out that he has a girlfriend. What hurts like fury is when you find it out through Issei. 

He tells you that it’s been a week, and that he’s surprised you didn’t know. So are you. You’d think your boyfriend would tell you when he got a girlfriend, but maybe your relationship isn’t at that level yet. Tooru is, after all, leagues above you. 

Practice is rough. The tension makes everything stilted, and you see him look at you out of the corner of your eyes, as though wondering what he did wrong. You don’t really care, though. You’re mad, angrier than you’ve ever been before. This isn’t right, it’s not fair, he should tell you when he starts dating people yes but he shouldn’t be dating anyone at all. It’s basic logic, the first rule of dating. Don’t cheat. 

(You’re his and he’s yours, but maybe not anymore.)

“Iwa-chan?” After practice, you head for home without him. Tooru runs to catch up, and when you stand waiting for the train, he pants beside you, completely out of breath. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks, and his eyes show nothing but genuine confusion. He’s always been a good liar, and not for the first time you hate how easy it is for him to hide things from you. 

“Are you sure you should be taking the train home with me?” There is acid in your voice, and it burns your throat. You don’t care that you’re mean, not when he’s so much meaner. “Won’t your girlfriend get jealous?” 

Tooru pales considerably, and for a moment you think he’s going to faint. But even though he sways a bit, he stays upright, mouth set into a frown of betrayal. 

(You don’t feel bad, you shouldn’t feel bad, but the shame is crawling through your shoulders and up your spine.)

“Who told you?” He asks, before shaking his head furiously. “No, don’t answer that.” He looks regretful, for a moment, before the look passes. Set on his face is an expression of resolution, of someone who knows what they’re doing despite all other opinions. 

You look at him finally, face to face, and the creeping guilt sucker punches you in the stomach. 

“Were you ever going to tell me?” You don’t want to know the answer to that, not when it could be no. 

(He’s yours, he’s yours, he’s-)

“No.” He turns away to look straight forward, and the wind from the incoming train sweeps against your face. You think about crying, about slamming him against the wall and demanding that he explain what the hell he was thinking. You think about how you trusted him, how you (oh god no) love him, and how this miserable thing has happened and you don’t know what to do. 

“Why.” Your voice is nothing but a whisper, and it is barely heard over the screeching of the train. “Why would you do something like this?” 

“Well.” He shifts uncomfortably, and the train doors open, but neither of you make a move towards the doors. You want an answer, and you’ll stay here until the end of time waiting for one. The people leaving the train bump against you, and it’s rude, but it means nothing because you can see his mouth move but you can barely hear the words. 

“I thought it would be easier. For you.” It’s a logical excuse, one that would maybe make your life easier, but it doesn’t make sense. Why wouldn’t he tell you? 

(Nothing makes sense, but he’s yours and he’s yours and he’s yours.)

The doors close and the train leaves, but you still don’t reply. You stand on that platform, so very close to Tooru but so very far, and you wonder if this is what loneliness feels like. 

He’s panicking now, brown hair fluttering as he turns his head about and thinks of something to say. You’ll wait, and wait, and wait, but only if he can give you an answer. 

(You’ll wait forever, really.)

“Does she know?” You ask, and he shakes his head minutely. Of course she doesn’t, of course idiot Tooru would keep something this important from his girlfriend, of course he’s nothing but a liar and a sneak and a good for nothing bastard. 

“Then why?” And you can’t help it when your voice carries across the platform. People stop to stare at the two of you, but you hardly register them. You can’t stop the anger now, not when it’s reaching through you to strangle the idiot boy in front of you. 

“Why would you accept someone’s love letter and not tell them something like this? Why would anyone trick someone like that, it’s rude and selfish!” You look at his colorless and drop your voice to a spitting hiss. “Why would you betray me like this?” 

“Iwa-chan I-” But it’s too late. You turn on your heel and walk away from him, not caring where you’re going as long as it isn’t here. 

“Wait!” He says, but you don’t stop. You don’t think you can stop, because if you stop you’ll listen to him and he’s always been good at getting you to forgive him. 

He says nothing as he catches up with you, and you don’t attempt to make conversation either. Instead, you ready yourself for the long walk back home. 

You should break up with him. You should leave him, tell him to leave, end things now before they get worse. Instead, you let him walk beside you. 

After two blocks, when he takes your hand in his, you do not shake him off. His palms are warm and soft, despite all the setting he does, and the smell of his lotion wafts up to your nose in waves. It’s painfully domestic, but it feels so very right, so you don’t fight it when he holds your hand tighter and rubs his thumb over the back of it. 

He kisses you at your door, one small chaste kiss, but it is enough. 

When he pulls away, his cheeks are red and his eyes shiny. (You don’t know if it’s tears or something else.) 

“Tell her.” Your voice is soft, but it carries through the dead air. “Tell her or break up with her, I don’t care, but please.” Please don’t do this to me, you don’t say. You don’t want to seem weak, don’t want him to know how much more you care than he does, but you beg with your eyes and your unsaid words and hope more than anything that he hears you. 

He looks you in the eye, on long searching look. “Okay.” His voice is soft too, and it makes your throat feel raw from screaming. You feel like you’ve cried. You think you should have cried, at least then you would have an excuse for feeling like shit. 

He kisses you once more before he lets go of your hand and leaves. 

\---

Somewhere along the way, time starts to have meaning again. 

It’s not like waking up from a dream. It’s as though you have finally surfaced from a pool of black and murky water, like you still have to clean out your eyes and ears but at least you can breathe. Your skin is icky and gross, and your mouth tastes like wet sandpaper, but the air around you is sweet and dry so you gulp it down thankfully. Your lungs sting with every inhale, and your throat screams in pain with every exhale, but it is breath and it is life so you breathe until you’re gasping for air and clutching at your chest. It’s not ideal, not by any means, but it is good enough for tomorrow. 

\---

When you’re five years old, you’re alone. It’s not something you actively realize, but it’s there. You spend your days in your front yard, chasing after bugs and butterflies and ignore the children playing in the community park. 

Your parents are busy, for the most part. Your father spends all his time at work in the office and your mother spends all her time at work in the shop, so you go to school and come home and sit on the porch until she comes back to let you into the house. 

It’s here where you meet your new neighbors. Their moving boxes are still crowding the street, but you can see an older girl of university age and a younger boy your own age. He runs through the neighborhood, jumping and leaping, like a wind-up toy owned by a hyperactive child. He’s more alive than anything else you’ve seen before, and you wonder just how someone like him ended up in such a dead-end neighborhood as this. 

“Hello!” The boys says, running up to you. He pants, out of breath, but his smile is wide and his eyes are bright, so you don’t think he minds much. 

“Hi.” Despite all of this, though, you are unsure. He is new, and you are quiet, and this entire encounter is nothing but strange. 

“I’m Oikawa Tooru.” He says his name with a proud sort of tone, and beams as though he has won everything he wants in life. “And you are?” 

“Iwaizumi Hajime.” He’s enthusiasm is contagious, and soon enough you find yourself smiling with him. 

“Your name’s too long.” Oikawa says, frowning slightly. 

“It’s the name my parents gave me, and maybe you’re just too impatient.” You are defensive of your name, you like it. It’s nice and unique and made you the person you are today. The words roll around comfortably in your mouth, and it’s the most you’ve talked to anyone outside your family ever but it feels good. 

Oikawa frowns more, and you start to get annoyed. Yes, you don’t have friends here in this small neighborhood in the middle of nowhere, but if your options are this stupid little boy, you think you’d be better off alone. 

“Maybe a nickname?” He asks, looking slightly hopeful. His face is so innocent, and his eyes are so large, you start to rethink your previous anger. 

You nod once, in hopes that he’ll go away to think of one and never come back. 

“Iwa-can!” Oikawa exclaims, eyes lighting up in delight. “That can be your new nickname!” 

Your nose wrinkles in distaste. “Isn’t it kinda dumb?” It’s short and squarish and not very impressive, everything you wish you weren’t. 

He grins, and shakes his head wildly, “It suits your perfectly.”

You suppose he’s right, but you don’t know much about nicknames. After all, no one’s ever given you one before. 

“So.” Oikawa states, sitting next to you on the doorstep. “What is there to do around here?” He looks at you like you can tell him the answers to everything in the world, and it’s the most attention you’ve had on you your entire life. 

“Well,” You pause, not knowing what to say. “There’s a park down the street, another one a few blocks away, and plenty of trees and bugs around the neighborhood…”

“Then let’s go!” His enthusiasm has no end, and when he jumps up and reaches a hand out towards you, you take it without a second thought. 

“Wait, but my mother will wonder where I am.” You were waiting for a reason, for your mother to come home from work and let you into the house, and you really shouldn’t leave in case she gets worried. You know how she gets when she’s worried, when her face scrunches up and her voice gets cold and angry. 

“Just for a little bit.” Your new friend whines, and you can’t help but humor him and let him drag you to the park. 

“So why are you here?” Oikawa turns to you, confused, so you reword your question. “Why did your family decide to move here?” 

“Oh.” He laughs a bit, and skips in his steps. “They wanted to follow my sister to university, that’s all.” 

“University, huh.” You mutter under your breath, but when Oikawa turns in question, you shake your head. You wonder what it’s going to be like, years and years from now, when the both of you are ready for university. You wonder if you’ll still be friends by then. You doubt it, because Oikawa seems like the type of person to make friends easily and you’re a nobody. 

When you get back, two house have passed and you see your mother talking to Oikawa’s mother in the driveway. You feel bad that you let him drag you away for so long, but it’s the most fun you’ve had in forever. 

“There they are!” Your mother sounds mad, mad, mad, and it sickens you to your stomach. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Maybe letting this near stranger drag you away to an old nearly abandoned park was a bad idea. 

“Oh don’t worry.” Oikawa’s mother sounds relaxed, so you let yourself relax a bit in turn. “They’re safe, aren’t they.” 

No one has ever talked back to your mother like this before. She runs the shop, and she runs the household, and she has always been the one in charge that no one dares to question. 

She blinks a few times, clearly surprised. “Of course.” Her voice is shaky, unsure, and you wonder how much this new neighbor has shaken her up. How this unintentional insubordination changed the way she will live for the rest of her life. 

“Come, Hajime.” She commands, and you follow without a question. Oikawa turns begging eyes to you, so you give him the most assuring look you can before turning away

“Don’t ever do that to me again.” She says once the Oikawa’s are out of earshot. She lets you into the house, and you look out at the dying light, wishing you were anywhere but here. “I was worried sick, you shouldn’t have gone out on your own.”

“I wasn’t alone.” You say weakly. Being with someone so enthusiastic has given you strength, but the look your mother gives you crushes it within seconds. 

“He is a little boy who cannot be trusted to take care of himself.” Just like you, she doesn’t say, but you hear it all the same. “I raised you better than that.” 

She is stern and angrier than you’ve ever heard her before, so you nod once and agree. 

She doesn’t mention the incident to your father when he comes home, which is all for the better, really. You don’t know if you can deal with both your parent’s anger at the same time. You are, after all, a perfect child. 

\---

After graduation, when all of the underclassmen have left, it’s just the four of you. You hold on to Tooru tightly, not wanting anyone to see how vulnerable he is, and berate yourself for the idiocy. He’s a grown man who can protect himself, but you feel much disinclined to let him go. 

“I’m fine Iwa-chan.” He whines, muffled through your uniform. Only then do you let him go, watching carefully as he wipes his eyes with his sleeve and sniffles a bit. 

Issei and Takahiro stand to the side, talking quietly to themselves. They look at you once, but it is a quick fleeting stare that you don’t think you were meant to see. 

“Don’t you two have somewhere to be?” Tooru asks loudly, catching their attention. Their faces go from concerned and sad to sheepish, and they say their goodbyes as they leave. 

But you watch the way they take their steps, slow and cautious, like a child who doesn’t want to startle a cat. It puts you on alert, and when you turn to Tooru to ask if everything’s alright, your mental alarm begins to blare. 

He doesn’t look upset anymore. Instead, he looks apologetic, as though he had done something wrong, and you instinctively reach for him. 

“No, Iwa-chan.” He says quietly, pushing your arms away. It’s the second time in one day, and seeing as Tooru is normally the affectionate one, it gets added to the list of things that aren’t right. 

“What’s going on?” You don’t mean to sound harsh, but it happens anyways. You don’t like it when people keep things from you, he knows that, everyone knows that. Honesty is the best policy, after all. 

“I…” He breathes for a moment, closing his eyes and centering himself. You want to ask more, to question and to help because there’s nothing you want more than to figure out what the hell is happening. 

“I’m breaking up with you.” His eyes fly open as he says this, and you can see the dead seriousness in them, pure and clear. For a moment, you don’t acknowledge the words. Surely he wouldn’t, surely he can’t.

But he remains completely serious, and the floor seems to fly out from underneath your feet. You feel yourself falling, hitting the ground and bouncing back up against gravity, but when you blink you are back on your feet and nothing has changed. 

“I’m sorry, what?” There’s no way this can be happening, after all. You may not have known it when you were five years old, but the two of you have always meant to go to the same school and live together and spend the rest of your lives happily ever after. 

“I’m breaking up with you.” He says, calm and certain. If anything, this time he’s more sure of himself. Tooru widens his stance, like he’s about to fight someone, and the assurance in his body movement throws you completely off guard. He looks prepared, like he expected every possible reaction and accounted for it.

“But why?” You still can’t believe it, but you’ll go along with his game, if that’ll make him happy. 

“Oh, you silly little Iwa-chan.” He says, almost dreamlike. “Did you really think we’d last forever?’ He laughs, and it is a laugh that grates at your ears and you wonder if this is how Kageyama feels whenever he sees Tooru. Angry and betrayed and offset. “It’s highschool, and highschool romances never last.” 

And oh, isn’t that true. No one’s first love ever makes it, and that has been proven time and time again. Countless stories of people who fell in love and fell out of love and lost everything because they loved that one love too much. 

But you thought you were different. You’ve always been different, after all. You’re Oikawa and Iwaizumi, Tooru and Hajime. You were supposed to be different. 

“Why?’ You can’t help but repeat yourself, to ask again and again and hope the words make sense in your head. You don’t really want to know, but you have to. Can you fix this? Can you try again, make this miserable dream less of a reality?

“I don’t love you.” And you don’t mean to make a noise, but it comes out anyways, harsh and guttural. Your vision is blurred, and it takes a moment for you to realize that you’re crying. Your mind moves at a slow pace, trying to comprehend everything that’s happened in the past ten minutes. 

Has it really been that short of a time since your life has fallen completely apart?

Tooru must see something on your face, because his own softens in pity. “I truly am sorry Iwaizumi.” But you don’t want his sympathy, you want answers and reasons and everything else. You’ve stayed with him through everything, and this is how he repays you?

You’re crying outright now, hiccupping and rubbing at your eyes. 

“I’m not going to text you.” You force out, because if it’s going to end like this then you’re going to finish it all the way. “I’m not going to text you or call you or-”

“Yeah.” Tooru’s voice is soft, and he’s not Tooru, not anymore. He’s Oikawa now, the little boy you met when you were five years old and the hyperactive child that got you in trouble. He’s everything you hated in your best friend, and nothing you loved about him. 

(He’s not your best friend not anymore). 

Oikawa leaves silently, and you stay in the middle of the gym, crying your heart out. 

You looks through watery eyes at the skid marks and dents and think of how fitting it is that the place your life started was also the place it ended. 

And oh, how you hate it so. 

\---

You can’t really blame him for the end, not after everything that’s happened. 

Hiding it from the team was probably the hardest part of the whole thing. You didn’t bother hiding it Issei and Takahiro, not when they were already something themselves, but you both decided that it would probably be a better idea if no one knew about your relationship. 

And not a day went by where you didn’t regret that decision. 

When Tooru got a girlfriend, you didn’t say anything until it was almost too late. When his parents harped on him time and time again about any of the girls that he likes, you weren’t allowed to say anything. You had no say in anything- really, what the two of you had couldn’t even have been called dating. 

(Watching afar was hard, so very hard. You don’t blame him for leaving, but you wonder if you could have lasted through all of this if you were a little bit braver). 

You remember the way your parents refused to talk to you for a week when you told them you were gay. Your mother fixed you with that disappointed stare once more, and although she had grown to love Tooru over the years, she still berated him and his negative influence. 

Your father visited you in the night and asked you if you needed fixing. It was an awkward conversation that you never told Tooru about, but you can still remember the frustration in his eyes as he wondered where he went wrong as a father. 

_You did nothing wrong_ you wanted to say. _It’s just the way I am, and nothing you could have done would have changed this._

But you were silent, and when you tried to invite Tooru to your house the next weekend, they refused to let you. Politely, but they refused nonetheless. 

You wonder if that’s the real reason why he gave up on this relationship, the secrecy and the disappointment. You know his parents don’t care, that they will accept anything that he decides to do and anyone he decides to date, but he kept it from them anyways. 

You wonder if that means he never loved you to begin with. 

You loved him, after all. With all your heart. And it isn’t one of those dumb romance stories where you affixed your entire life on him because it’s not, but you still feel like a piece of you is missing. 

You’ve been so close for so long, losing him is like losing a limb. 

There are, of course, other things to consider. One is the undeniable fact that Tooru is far better than you deserve. He spent the entirety of highschool being chased after by girls and boys alike, everyone knows that. You remember seeing him, time after time again, refusing person after person. He’s brilliant in everything he does, brilliantly smart and brilliantly genius. 

You don’t deserve someone like him. You never did, not even when you were an innocent child who knew no better. 

Will you regret the sudden lack of contact? Probably. But there is a difference between self-preservation and idiocy, and you may be toeing the line, but at least you’re still alive. 

Maybe they’ll accept you now, your parents. Maybe you can come home and say that your boyfriend broke up with you and that you are now the perfect child you were before you met Tooru. 

But you don’t. 

You find out that Tooru applied for a volleyball university on the other side of the country without telling you, and that he accepted the offer. It makes sense, now, the looks Yahaba and Issei and Takahiro gave you. The way they looked at you with such pity and sympathy. 

(You’re not mad that he didn’t tell you, not anymore. It makes sense, too much sense.)

But you go to university. You will live, and you will thrive, against all other odds. 

You are, after all, Iwaizumi Hajime. 

\---

It’s not that bad, you claim, time after time again. 

He was your best friend. Of course you’re having withdrawals. 

So they let you be, and you recover. 

The bad days happen less now, and you find yourself breathing more and living more and tasting the food you eat. You take pleasure in the little things, and that he never actually managed to get you down. 

You are not weak, you do not need him. You do not need love. 

\---

The day Tooru comes to school with a 39 degree fever is the day you decide that dating him is really too much work. 

“Are you an idiot?” You ask after feeling his head. “Is life too long for you? Trying to shorten it by killing yourself?” 

“No.” Tooru coughs, but it is a weak ‘no’ and does nothing to prove his case. 

It’s morning practice, but the team hasn’t started training yet. You can see the new first years relearning the basics, how the new libero is being taught how to set and how the boy who looks like a dog is sitting in the corner sulking. They’re nothing like you and Tooru and Issei and Takahiro were your first year, but they are something. 

“Then what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” And you’re mad, yes, but only because Tooru is the biggest idiot you have ever known. 

“We have an english test today.” He mutters, but you ignore it. 

“Tests won’t matter if you’re dead.” You state, and it is pleasing the way his face lights up in part anger and part fever. 

“I’m not going to die, don’t be so dramatic, Iwa-chan.” Tooru complains, and his whining attracts the attention of the third years. You don’t want them crowding him, not when he’s so sick, so you try to make a deal with him. 

“Go home now and I’ll come over later.” You haven’t had much time to hang out lately, especially with finals coming up. But losing a few study hours is worth the way Tooru’s face lights up in delight, and how he quickly grabs his bag and lets the upperclassmen know that he’s leaving. 

When you go to his house later, it is not a very dramatic affair. His parents are out of the house, off doing something or another, and he is lying in bed, sleeping. He’s still sick, but not as bad as before, so you sit on the chair next to Tooru’s bed and wait for him to wake up. 

When he does, though, he is groggy and confused. The fuzzy look in his brown eyes turns you into a stupidly romantic mess, so you turn away and grab the volleyball next to his bed. 

“Come on.” You grunt, standing. “Let’s go outside.” 

The wind blows, and the leaves swirl around the two of you, but it is not as cold as you thought it would be. Tooru is bundled up as much as he can be, but he has enough space to pass the ball back and forth. 

“How was the test?” He asks, voice croaky. He sounds awful, but you know how much he loves being outside, so you don’t say anything. 

“Hard.” You reply, and decide to focus on the game. “But you’ll probably do better than I did.” 

He nods once, and you spend the next few minutes in peaceful silence. 

When Tooru’s parents get home, they invite you to stay for dinner. You refuse, of course, for your parents would be absolutely furious if they knew, and kiss Tooru on the head before leaving. 

It’s not super romantic, but it is domestic enough to make your head spin and your stomach churn. It’s what you’ve always wanted, really, in your life. Peace, calm, and the nice sweet love of someone who loves you back. 

\---

Lining up at the end of the game is hard, both physically and mentally. Your legs burn and your breathe comes out choppy and harsh, but all you can see is the face Tooru made as the ball hit the ground.

You think of Kindaichi, and how he must be feeling. To be the one to caused the end, the one who changed the angle of the ball and sent it right where it wasn’t supposed to be. You wonder if anything you do could ever hurt as much as that, but you think of all the mistakes you made in the game and know that you can.

Watching Issei and Takahiro cry is hard too. It’s your last year, your last chance, and Issei didn't even get a chance. You saw his face on the sidelines, cheering for a team he could do nothing to help. 

(You never want to see that facial expression ever again, for it ripped at your insides like a dull saw.)

Really, though, you could take into consideration every single of your teammate's doings and find flaws in them. This game was a mess, a mess of mistakes and errors and things that shouldn’t have happened because you know in your heart that Aoba Josai is supposed to be better than Karasuno. 

Not anymore, you suppose. 

Tooru glances at you once before you bow, and it’s heartbreaking. The pain in his eyes, the way he tries to be strong. 

It’s tearing you apart. 

You can hear the Karasuno cheers as you exit the gym. They’re loud, for this is an achievement above all else. You suppose you should be grateful that they thought so highly of your team, but all you can think about is the look in #10’s eyes as he hit the ball, how there was an almost clairvoyant sense of knowledge in his eyes as he hit it at the perfect angle. 

Tooru had always thought that Kageyama was the one to be worried about, but you fear for anyone who dares to go against the small shorty. 

They cheer and cheer and cheer, and your team cries and cries and cries, and it is so very unfair. 

“How are you doing, Iwaizumi?” Issei asks from across the bus. Tooru is sleeping, his head a comfortable weight on your shoulder, and Takahiro looks out the window on the other side of the bus and listens to music. Issei leans across the aisle to talk, and the red of his eyes makes your stomach churn. 

“Not good.” You try to be honest, but you think it’s obvious. No one is doing good, not after such a close defeat. 

“Yeah.” He says quietly, and you think he’s talking to himself, but he turns to you once more. 

“No one blames you, you know that, right?” 

You snort in derision. “Well they should.” It was a good chance, and it would have worked if you were stronger. Or faster. Or anything more than you are. 

Issei shakes his head. “Oikawa knew that the set was off. No one blames you for not being able to hit his mistake.” 

“Mistake?” You raise your eyebrows and your voice, and Issei winces. “Nothing about that was a mistake. It was a perfect shot, and I fucked it up.” 

He’s silent for a while, considering your words. You feel bad, you didn’t mean to yell. But you had spent so long trying not to think about that last volley that now that it’s back in your brain, all you can see are the mistakes you made. How you could have been smarter or trained harder or anything and everything. 

“No one blames you.” He repeats, and you should feel victorious. You win, after all, since he can’t argue anymore. Instead, all you feel is the never ending guilt that haunts the back of your mind in waves. 

“In together, out together.” You whisper, and Issei nods besides you. 

“Exactly.” 

A moment passes, and you can feel the silent tears drip down your face. “I’m sorry.” You choke out, and you want to stop crying but you can’t. Instead, you tilt your head against Tooru’s and bury you face in his soft hair. 

“So am I.” Comes from across the aisle, but you ignore it in hopes of claiming some sleep. 

\---

You join your university team against better judgement. It’s a decent team, full of people who played in high school, so you don’t set your bar very high. 

But oh, how fun it is. The setter from Karasuno is there, and you feel a sense of anger when you first see him rise in your stomach. But Sugawara Koushi is unbearably nice, and after one practice, all anger fades away to reluctant tolerance. 

Neither of you make it to the starting line your first year, but that’s okay. You don’t need to be playing on the big court, and when the tournaments start, the two of you sit together and cheer from the balcony. 

They don’t make it past the first round, but that’s okay. The seniors aren’t upset, which is good, because you really don’t need a repeat of your third year. No one cares that much now, for they are all focusing on bigger and better things in life. 

This time, though, the end isn’t your fault. 

School is tough, almost as though as the team is. You take pre-med classes because it’s what your mother told you to take, and Sugawara does pediatrics. You spend a lot of time together in the medicine department, and it’s a good change of pace. 

You don’t ask about the dark-haired wing spiker on Suga’s lockscreen, and he doesn’t ask about the team picture on yours, in which you are hugging a brown haired setter. 

It’s friendly, and you think you can get through university with a new set of friends. 

Some days, though, it’s bad. You don’t need him, you tell yourself this over and over again. But he was everything for a while, and it hurts even though it shouldn’t. 

Your sophomore year isn’t much different. You don’t make the starting line but Suga does, so you go to the games and cheer as loud as you can from the sidelines. You meet his boyfriend, Sawamura Daichi, and you fear for you life. He’s a scary guy, which mature eyes and a set personality, but seeing him with Suga makes you realize how very soft he is on the inside. 

School doesn’t get easier, but it does get more fun. You don’t think you’ll hate becoming a doctor, not anymore. You learn so many new things and meet so many new people that you pretend that it was Tooru (Oikawa) holding you back this whole time instead of the other way around. 

The bad days are less, and life is good. Suga stays by your side, along with a plethora of other friends you have made, and it isn’t the stable friendship you and To- Oikawa had but it is something. 

Junior year is when it all falls apart. 

It’s the year you make the starting line for the volleyball team, and Suga and Sawamura throw you a mini party. 

It’s the year you finally move out of those crusty dorms and into an apartment that you share with Yaku Morisuke from Nekoma. He’s neat, and way too motherly, but it feels nice to be taken care of instead of taking care of. 

It’s also the year the school volleyball team makes it past the first round of the tournament. It’s absolutely brilliant, being back on the courts. You thought you would hate it, but it’s so familiar that you find it silly that you ever thought so in the first place. 

Your junior year is the year you see Oikawa again. You don’t know when he really stopped being Tooru and started being Oikawa, but it’s relieving to see his face and not feel an overwhelming sense of despair. 

You still feel regret, though, but it’s not quite as potent as it used to be. It’s a calm sort of regret, the kind that makes you think and wonder about what it would have been like if it didn’t end the way it did. But that’s not important, for life is good now, and there is nothing you wish to change. 

This, of course, immediately changes when you see who’s on his team with him. 

You see big names there, on the other side of the net. Bokuto Koutarou from Fukurodani and Yaku’s old teammate Kuroo Tetsurou and-

Ushijima Wakatoshi. 

And you wonder if there’s something more than friendship between the two of them, because he tosses to Ushijima with no hesitation whatsoever. You can see the trust and reliance clear as day in Oikawa’s eyes, and the joy in Ushijima’s. He’s won, finally, after all these years. He’s gotten Oikawa and the genius sets and everything and you have nothing. 

Well. You have some things, and turning to look at Suga and Yaku remind you of this very fact. 

Your team loses of course, because you aren’t a powerhouse, not like Oikawa’s team is. It’s a comfortable loss, though, like it always is, and the lack of overwhelming tears will never stop to please you. 

When the time comes to shake hands, you panic for a quick second. But you get lucky and shake Bokuto’s hand, while Yaku to your right congratulates Nishinoya Yuu from Karasuno. You don’t know what would be worse, shaking hands with Oikawa or Ushijima, so you thank Bokuto for the good game and leave to line up with your team. 

It’s when you’re getting ready to leave when time stops once more, but for only a second. You’re right by the buses, loading the bags, when you hear it. 

“Wait!” Someone calls, and you’d recognize that voice from a mile away in your dreams. Oikawa comes running up to you, and the entire bus stares at him and the ever-present Ushijima at his side. 

(You wonder when he took your place). 

“Can I help you?” And it may sound mean, but you don’t know what he wants from you. You’ve moved on, found a new team and a new life. Sure, you hated it for the longest time, but they’ve become a part of you, just like Oikawa was. And surely, surely he’s moved on too. 

“Iwa.” It’s not the nickname, not like it was before, but it still hurts to hear. You never thought you’d actually talk to Oikawa ever again. 

“Iwaizumi.” Ushijima gently pushes Oikawa behind him, and stands in front of you proudly. You don’t think he knows how to be anything but proud, confident and strong. He is, after all, one of the most brilliant spikers the world has seen. 

“What.” And you are apprehensive, because you don’t like Ushijima, you never have. Not because he took Oikawa away from you, but because he’s insensitive and haughty and-

“He misses you.” And your eyes widen at that. Suga’s head shoots up, and Yaku rises from where he’s sitting on the ground, but they stop moving when Ushijima raises a hand. 

“He misses you, and wants you to call him.” Oikawa makes a noise of protest, but there’s not much he can do behind this giant hulk of a man. Ushijima looks dead serious, but he always looks dead serious, so you don’t really know what to say. 

“Hajime’s moved on.” Suga says defiantly, and the noise comes again. You know he’s trying to make a point by using your first name, but it’s the first time any of your friends have used your first name before, and a wave of warmth runs through you. 

“Of course.” Ushijima doesn’t look surprised by this statement. “But their friendship should be given the chance to grow once more, even if it is from nothing.” 

His never ending plant metaphors make you sick, but Kageyama’s words run through your head again and again. 

_Good. He’s good._

You wonder if he lied to you on purpose, or if this is all a scam to break your heart again. Yaku’s ready to defend you, though, and you know Suga will be there if anything goes wrong, so you really have nothing to fear. 

So you look past Ushijima, through his chest to the boy you know is cowering behind. You wonder if he’s hunched in on himself, of if he’s standing bravely waiting for rejection. You wonder if he even came here to ask for your friendship back, or if this was just one more chance to say goodbye for real. 

It doesn’t really matter now, though. 

“I’ll text you.” You say, and wonder if you can still remember Oikawa’s number in your mind. You deleted it from your phone in a fit of rage your freshman year, but you’re pretty sure it’ll come back to you when faced with a keypad once more. 

“But if you’ll excuse me,” you take a step back and your friends join you at your side, and you feel more powerful than ever before. “I have a bus to catch.” 

There are so many things you want to ask, about Oikawa and Ushijima both, but you don’t. And as you turn to walk away, you don’t look back.

\---

“That was rough.” Hanamaki sounds absolutely exhausted, and you don’t blame him. 

The four of you are hanging out at the shop next to the school. Matsukawa is draped across the bench outside the shop, and Hanamaki has made it his goal to sit on the other boy. You and Tooru occupy the other bench, and while you may not be the proper distance away from each other, at least you aren’t sitting on him. 

“I agree.” You say, stretching slightly. Finals were a wreck, and you can honestly say that you’re glad they are over. You’re upset, of course, about the third years graduating, but it’ll be a good change of pace. Plus, you won’t be the bottom of the bunch at the start of next year anymore. 

“Oikawa probably did alright, though.” Matsukawa mutters, sounding slightly strained. You don’t blame him, seeing as he has another human resting on his stomach. 

“I’m human too, you know.” Tooru sounds vaguely insulted, but Hanamaki and Matsukawa laugh, so you do too. He may be human, yes, but you know better than anyone how truly ethereal this human really is. 

“I am excited for all the summer camps, though.” Tooru says thoughtfully, gazing up at the sky. The three of you groan. 

“I’m excited to sleep.” Matsukawa mutters, and Hanamaki grunts in agreement. He stands quietly and extends his arms towards the sky, and when he comes back down, he looks more tired than he was before. 

“I think I’m going to go now.” Hanamaki yawns. Matsukawa stands with him, and the two of them make such a spectacular pair that you don’t know how you didn’t see it before. They remind you of a fairytale, of a prince from a foreign land who makes a friend and falls in love. 

“Be safe.” Tooru says offhandedly, still looking up at the sky, and you wave to them as they leave. You turn away right as Matsukawa swings his arms around Hanamaki’s shoulders, and you wonder when they got so close. 

You suppose it makes sense, though. With as close as you and Tooru are, it only makes sense that they would get closer as well. 

“What’s so pretty up there?” You ask, looking up with him. It’s not dark enough to see the stars, which Tooru loves, but it is dark enough to see a faint image of the moon. It’s beautiful, and the pink and orange splayed across the sky make you regret your question. The sky is gorgeous, and it paints across the view in a mirage of undefinable colors. 

It is a moment in time you want to savor for the rest of your life. The smell of the sweets being baked in the shop, the calm wind against your hair, the grainy park bench scratching at your shorts. It’s a moment in time, one that stops and stays and never moves on. It’s the beginning of time, the end of time. 

“What are you thinking so deeply about?” You turn your head and find Tooru looking at you, eye to eye. He’s oddly serious, and you can practically the cogs in his brain turning and the way his eyes shift from side to side, following the leaves. 

You want to kiss him, and it should shock you, this realization, but it doesn’t. You suppose that makes sense, seeing as you’ve always been strangely close growing up. 

Tooru frowns when you don’t answer him, but it is a pouty frown that holds very little meaning. Suddenly, you are overcome with the fear that he doesn't feel the same way, and that at the end of it all you are going to end up alone. 

“Come back to school with me.” He says, and the feeling of his breath against your face is warm and uncomfortable. Still, though, you accept his hand and let him take you back to the school, reminiscent of all those years ago. 

Even after all these years, he will never stop controlling you. 

(You don’t mind.)

The gym is empty, as it should be, but it doesn’t feel very different. You can practically taste the practice you’ve done over and over again in this gym, and wonder what the feeling will be like in your third year after you’ve spent what should be the best years of your life in it. 

“Iwa-chan.” Tooru turns to look at you, and the seriousness is back. His head is framed by the lights, but they look like a halo around his hair, and it reminds you of those religious stories you parents told you when you were younger. 

“Be my boyfriend.” He says, almost matter of factly. Despite his feigned nonchalance, though, you can see the fear in his eyes, and how unsure he is. You feel like laughing, almost. To think that you were the one who feared rejection. 

“Okay.” You say, and watching him beam is adorable. There’s a lot to consider, of course, especially with your parents and the rest of the team, but you don’t worry about that. 

Instead, you kiss him under the fluorescent lights of the gymnasium, and smile against his mouth.

And then, your story begins.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr.](http://www.highlightjunhui.tumblr.com)


End file.
